Madness
by Writer's Muse
Summary: Alternate ending for Macbeth that I did for school. Hope you enjoy :)


_"I cannot escape, but like a bear, I'll fight till the end. Who is he that is not of woman born? Should I be afraid or should I not?" The question came quietly from Macbeth's mouth, almost a whisper and tempting the non-existent people around him to fall quiet to listen to what he had to say._

_"What is your name?" a young boy's voice sounded from behind him. Macbeth turned around slowly, as if he had nothing to worry about._

_"You would be afraid to hear it," said Macbeth in a bored tone. The boy looked at him, sizing him up. Macbeth found it odd that such a young boy would be before him._

_"No I won't. There is no name worse than any in hell." The boy was confident, Macbeth had to give him that, but he was of woman born, Macbeth could see it oozing off of him._

_"My name is Macbeth," He stated proudly, and why shouldn't he? He was the king after all._

_"Even the devil couldn't say a name that evil or hateful to my ears," The boy, Young Siward was his name as Macbeth recalled a passing conversation from Banquo, grimaced and his face contorted into a snarl._

_"No, nor more fearful." Macbeth kept his proud tone, it didn't matter to him if Siward didn't like him._

_"You lie, you horrible tyrant. With my sword I'll prove that you are lying." Young Siward lunged at Macbeth, sword raised high and brought it down in a sweeping arch. Macbeth countered it causing Siward to be thrown to the ground. Before the boy could even get up or defend himself, Macbeth skewered him through his heart._

_"You were of woman born," stated Macbeth plainly, shaking his head," I smile at swords and laugh at weapons because they are wielded by those of woman born." Alarms rang through the castle as if they knew that the boy was dead. At that moment Macduff entered to see Macbeth standing over Young Siward's corpse and at once he was enraged._

_At the other end of the castle, Malcolm was talking to his uncle about the status of their raid, but Macbeth and Macduff did not know about it because they were entwined by fate to fight till only one was standing._

_With his back to Macduff, Macbeth whispered to himself," Why should I kill myself with my own sword? Its better when it's used against someone else." The voices inside Macbeth's head were silently whispering things into his ear, telling him to kill, kill, KILL!_

_"Turn Hell-hound, Turn!" shouted Macduff brandishing his sword. Macbeth looked over his shoulder, his eyes dark with the madness inside of him._

_"Of all the people who want to kill me I have avoid you. But my soul is too full of guilt with the blood of your kin already." Sadness crept into those mad eyes that were windows to Macbeth's soul. Macduff didn't care about what Macbeth had to say, he was too angry to._

_"I have no words, my sword is my voice. Calling you bloody villain wouldn't even be enough to describe what you are." Macduff feinted, but Macbeth saw it coming and blocked it. The area they fought in rang with every clash between the two swords. One was for evil and chaos, while the other was for good and justice, two swords trying to win the match for their masters._

_"You are wasting your breath. Though you have a good blade, it can only fall on vulnerable chests. I have a charmed life, in which I cannot be slain by one of woman born." annoyed Macbeth swung his blade towards Macduff's neck, only to have it blocked._

_"Then your charmed life is no good. Let the angel, that still watches you, tell you that I was untimely ripped from my mother's womb." A grim thrum went up Macbeth's spine causing hi m to shiver with dread. 'How could this be? How could I let this happen?' Macbeth frantically thought, his veins filling with liquid ice._

_"Curse your tongue for telling me so, for it has made a coward of my better part of man. Those deceiving fiends I no more believe, that said double meanings, that keep the word of promise to our ear, and use it to break our hope! I will not fight you." Macbeth yelled, his body now that of ice and stone._

_"Then yield you coward, and live to show and gaze of the time. We'll put a picture of you on a pole and under it write, 'Here you may see the tyrant'." spat Macduff, his face grim and determined to bring down Macbeth._

_"I will not yield! To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet is like being baited by a rabble's curse! Although Birnam Wood has come to Dunsinane and you say that you are not of woman born, I will try the last. Before myself I throw a warlike shield. Fight Macduff and make it him that first cries 'Hold enough!'." Macbeth jumped at Macduff, his blade coming from above as to slice Macduff in half. Macduff stumbled backwards from the force at which the two swords collided, slightly stunned. With a war cry Macbeth swung at him again and again and again. No signs of stopping came from Macbeth and Macduff blocked all the fatal blows, blood and sweat mingling together. Macduff could feel the jarring of his bones with each hit and the pain in his body that slowed his reactions more and more. He wouldn't be able to hold off Macbeth for much longer, so he needed to take his chances and strike down the tyrant. As Macbeth was taking a swing, Macduff swung at his neck, but alas, he was too slow. He had left his own neck unprotected as he took the swing and Macbeth, who was showing no signs of tiredness, was faster and chopped off Macduff's head. The rest of the army entered the arena just as Macduff's body and head hit the ground. Silence ruled over the area, no one daring to speak, no one but Macbeth._

_"You were of woman born, even if you were untimely ripped," He addressed the severed head of Macduff, then he looked to the audience around him," You see! No one can defeat me because you are all of woman born! Bow down to me, you insects of life! I have a charmed life, protected from those of woman born!" One by one, the rebel army got onto their knees, if Macduff could not defeat them, then chances are that they couldn't either. A cruel smile crossed Macbeth's face._

_"I will rule till the day that I die and no one shall kill me until Death takes my breath!" Macbeth proclaimed, brandishing his hand like a weapon. None of the rebel fighters stood up or even muttered a word. It wasn't until Macbeth grabbed Malcolm by the shoulder and threw him to the ground that gasps started to ring through the air._

_"As a demonstration that no one while fight against me, I am going to kill young Malcolm right in front of your eyes. Macbeth picked up his sword, Malcolm scrambled backwards trying to escape. The tyrant Macbeth put a stop to his actions by placing his armored boot on Malcolm's chest. With one clean swing Malcolm's head was rolling towards the crowd. Siward gasped in horror as he thought,' Macbeth has gone too far and is too far from reason to help! Malcolm and Macduff were our best soldiers, we have no chance against him!'_

_"T-then what will you have us do my Liege?" Siward said, his voice full of fear. Macbeth didn't know that he was insane anymore, when he killed Macduff the voices in his head disappeared. He felt better than he did since the time before he and his wife were plotting to kill Duncan. With eyes full of madness Macbeth said, "Yes there is one thing you could do for me. It would show the extent of your loyalty no doubt about that..." Siward flinched at the tone Macbeth was using._

_"I want you to go and jump off the highest point in this castle and onto the ground below. The highest point is in fact the watch tower at the northern end. If you survive or not doesn't matter to me." Siward gulped and with Macbeth trailing behind him, he started towards his doom... But that is another story._


End file.
